


Like Fleets of Promise

by Katherine



Category: Fifth Millennium Series - Shirley Meier & S. M. Stirling & Karen Wehrstein
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Gently brushing out long wet and tangled hair of upset character, Hair Brushing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29007813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katherine/pseuds/Katherine
Summary: Megan's hair was sea-wet, gone even darker, and full of snarls.
Relationships: Shkai'ra Mek-Kermek's-kin/Megan Whitlock
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	Like Fleets of Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).



Megan was sitting cross-legged on a jut of reasonably dry rock, a reasonable distance back from the still-crashing waves, but clearly her mood was anything but meditative. She kept flexing her hands, once or twice thumping her thigh, and Shkai'ra spotted the eerie red flicker of magic-light between her fingers.

"I agree on too many shipwrecks," Shkai'ra said, more mildly than was usual for her. "At least we've more baggage left than usual this time. Comes of the wreck happening so conveniently near to shore."

Finishing her rummage through one of Megan's bags, her lover's belongings as familiar to her as her own, Shkai'ra had a hairbrush in hand as she seated herself behind Megan. She extended her longer legs to either side, squeezing for a moment as she settled. Megan's hair was sea-wet, gone even darker, and full of snarls.

Upset in the delay in their journey, Megan muttered some displeased words about salt water. Shkai'ra forbore tickling her ear as she fingered the worst tangle. She chose a different section, nearer the dripping ends of Megan's hair, as the place to begin, and set the wide bristles of the brush there. Two quick flicks of the brush, then more slowly as she worked at the lowermost tangle from beneath.

"More convenient than you diving off the ship's deck with nothing but your shackles," Shkai'ra said, the memory of her first meeting with Megan warm. Megan so proud and resourceful, from the first moments that Shkai'ra encountered her. The chance meeting again after Megan had escaped, their friendship that shifted so quickly to love, various perils overcome...

Drawing the brush gently down and through Megan's hair, admiring the wet sheen, Shkai'ra reflected that so much of the gentleness that she was learning was from her lover's influence. Patience, as well, which they would need on this path across the sea to revenge on he who had put Megan into slavery. Shkai'ra would wield her sword for Megan, then, or watch with her people's cruel satisfaction as Megan chose her form of vengeance.

Shkai'ra tucked Megan's hair back from her shoulder and put a nipping kiss there, almost a bite, through Megan's wet clothes.

"Now hide those sparks for a while, witch," Shkai'ra said, deepest affection for Megan in particular tempered by remaining disquiet that was natural to her about magic in general. "Or I'll go use this brush of yours on my cat."

Ten-Knife-Foot poked his head up from his investigation of a crevice in the rocks nearby as if interested in this prospect. Megan gave the cat and Shkai'ra both a narrow-eyed glare, but there was a bit of lightness in her face now also.

When Megan tipped her head upwards for a kiss, Shkai'ra angled to meet it, only then noticing her own hair, similarly damp and with the waves of it caught into tangles. If she succeeded in smoothing Megan's mood, perhaps Megan would return the favour of brushing. The cat, after all, could groom himself.


End file.
